Portrayed by the endless sight of lonely images, a thought crosses the mind of eternal being. Was this the life I chose? Is this the life I chose? Plagued by a disaster of unwanted memories, of unwanted feelings, the divorce of reality and dreams cry brokenness. Imagination and inspiration come with actions not yet attained. Visions, desires, they all falter at the thought of accomplishment. Who am I? What have I become? A monster? A helper? Only time will tell. Thrust into the empty vacuum of shipwrecks, the bitterness of the past haunts like a shadow moving on its own. Devastation. This wreckage reeks of the totality that has become a stagnant body. Speechless lips are consequence of a mind so entangled by the problems set forth. A generation of adulterers. A generation of liars. A generation that cannot be forgotten. Who has the mind of Truth? Let him step forward. A battle wages. A fight is brewing. But this won’t be the end and my arm will fight to the death. Picking up each plank, board by board, a rebuilt entity begins to form. What was once lost will find its way back. A terrifying site will befall a beautiful organism. We’re 105 days into this and patience is her name. Struggles form, division abounds, but veracity will overtake them. Day by day this forsaken boat will transpire a majestic vessel sailing and flourishing through the seas. With canons we’ll devastate this land called “dry” and obliterate this leviathan called “apathetic.” Together a fleet of overcoming lives renovate into one creature of radical purpose; one creature of reckless abandonment taking authority for what is rightfully belonged. Portrayed by the endless sight of victorious images, a thought crosses the mind of eternal being. This was the life I was given. This is the mission I chose. Blessed by a movement of difficult seasons, of troubled waters, the marriage of reality and dreams screams restoration!

Written April 2012.